


our time together has been strange, hasn’t it?

by gubiegubes



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gubiegubes/pseuds/gubiegubes
Summary: He's all you have left.





	our time together has been strange, hasn’t it?

After two months of searching, he’s here, so close you can touch him.

They call him Father.

He’s your son.

He’s Shaun.

He’s Shaun, but not the Shaun you never got to know. In a way, Shaun’s already dead. The Shaun that could have had a happy, normal, life—dead.

Shaun.

He’s all you have left.

“Please do not feel obligated to call me Father,” he tells you.

“Son,” you call him. You never intended to refer to him that way, anyway.

He’s so cold. He’s so clinical. He keeps talking about science, about willpower, about achievements. You want to scream and shake him and ask him, _are you really my son?_

But he calls you _Father_.

You wonder if he’s a synth, too.

-

“I’m sick,” he tells you, “very sick,” and now you know he’s not. Big, ugly tears roll down your face; he watches like he’s observing you for data. He’s going to write up a summary later—you know this.

You cry until you can’t breathe, and he puts his hand on your shoulder. It’s the first time you’ve touched, if you don’t count the time you grasped his arm and he stared at your hand like it was alien.

Has he ever been touched? You wonder.

“I love you,” you tell him, “even if I couldn’t raise you. I wish I could have, God, I wish I could have.”

Shaun smiles sadly.

“I’m afraid you only love the idea of me,” he says.

“I love you despite the fact that you’re older than me,” you say, exasperated, “don’t you think that’s just a little fucking weird?”

Shaun looks at you like a teacher would a student. He makes you feel small. But he’s your Shaun.

“I can configure the synth,” Shaun says.

“I don’t need a synth,” you say, like you did when he offered the first time, “I have you.”

“I understand,” Shaun says.

“I love you,” you say a third time.

He nods.

“Don’t think I haven’t wondered,” he says, “what we could have had.”

“So much,” you say, the tears coming forth again, “we could have had it all.”

-

The murmurs run through the Institute. You haven’t been back to Sanctuary for weeks. Father’s getting sicker. Things are coming to a head.

Shaun told you his plan, and it made you sick to your stomach. You don’t have the guts to tell him how much you hate the Institute. Inheritance from your son—is that a thing?

“Don’t leave,” you moan into his shoulder the next time you two are alone, “please stay.”

Shaun’s bony hand, harshly veined, runs over your head and through your hair. The Institute’s cold walls are trapping you in.

You turn your face and kiss his neck, soft except for the bristles of his beard, still neatly trimmed courtesy of Dr. Filmore. You pause, wondering if you went too far.

“Well,” Shaun says quietly, “that’s the first time someone’s done that to me.”

“What,” you say, surprised out of your own embarrassment, “you’re a handsome man--just like your pops.”

“Thank you,” Shaun says, “but I’m not sure that’s so true right now.”

He’s gaunt, eyes sunken. Not even with Dr. Filmore, you think.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him, “you deserve to feel.”

“Feel what?” He asks you.

You lean forward and kiss him.

You need this more than he does. You didn’t even ask. His mouth doesn’t move against yours. You pull back.

“I’m sorry—” you begin to say.

“Ah,” Shaun says, and reaches up to touch his lips, “I guess this is what I’ve been missing.”

“My sweet, sweet Shaun,” you say mournfully, and pull him close again, “it shouldn’t have to be like this, baby. It was never supposed to be like this.”

“It can never be normal,” Shaun agrees, chin moving over your shoulder as he talks, “maybe once upon a time, you were.”

“I was,” you say, and let him go to search his eyes, “and so were you. With your mother—we were perfect.”

"Perhaps."

“So even with all that experimenting,” you begin.

Shaun shakes his head.

“All for the greater good.”

“Son.” Your voice is breaking.

“Kiss me again?” Shaun asks you. Your heart shatters from the innocence in his tone.

You kiss him deep, deep, deeply. He can barely catch his breath when you’re done.

-

He’s left you the synth. His eyes are the same shade of green as yours.

“Father,” he asks you, “what are you going to do next?”

You feel like screaming, but you pull him close, into your arms.


End file.
